


Messenger

by eatapeachallday



Category: Original Story, Original Work
Genre: Angels, Death, Demons, Gen, Ghosts, Revenge, Supernatural Elements, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-11-16 23:12:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatapeachallday/pseuds/eatapeachallday
Summary: Would love to know any thoughts you have on this.





	1. Cleo

Hospitals. Weird aren't they? A place that should be comforting and secure is actually pretty wide open. Anyone can stroll into a Hospital, day or night, walk around practically unnoticed, do whatever. Very few pay attention to you. Medical professionals are too busy to wonder who you are or what you're doing. Cleaners don't care. They assume you're a visitor or a patient. As long as you keep moving and look like you have a purpose they don't ask questions.  
Last nights visitor had been very specific. She'd told me everything. I knew exactly where to find him. What time to be here.What was wrong with him. He was sick. I knew what to do. I made my way down the ward, still a few visitors lingering for one last kiss before they had to leave. No staff to be found, taking a well earned break in the small room behind the reception desk. I had passed and smelt the tea brewing, and the toast burning. The guy in the last bed looked at me as I passed, he had no distractions, no visitors, no TV filling his view, but he said nothing, cloudy eyes just following me as I walked on. I pushed through the doors at the end of the ward, they closed behind me, muffling the noise. I turned left and walked past other single bed rooms. I could smell the scent of death on the air. Faint, but strangely sweet. Not unpleasant but not in my list of all time favourites either. I turned again and again, I walked, this maze of shiny floored, too bright corridors until I reached the room. The one she had shown me. The heavy wooden door with its large red warning sign, telling me I should not enter. Red. Danger. Danger in here. I hesitated, fingers just hovering over the handle.  
" I need you to do this."  
I didn't jump, didn't flinch , as she spoke. I had felt the drop in the temperature as soon as I had entered the building. The icy feeling that seeped under skin and into bones, definitely not just the air conditioning. I knew she was here. Other than when she came to find me she was probably always here.  
I turned my head to look at her, my requester. So young. So goddamn young.  
" You'll need one of those...." she was pointing at the table holding masks, gloves, aprons, hairnets, booties. The full get up. Sighing I pulled on the thick gloves and put one of the small but still slightly claustrophobic masks over my mouth and nose. Spotting the plastic goggles I put those on too. She nodded, seemingly pleased.  
" You know what to say?"  
" Yeah, but look...." I stopped short as I heard squeaky shuffling footsteps approaching.  
" Better get in there, before he sees you." She was looking towards the last turn I had made and I knew she was right. I pushed the handle, hoping it would be locked. It wasn't. The door opened smoothly and with one final look at the girl, who's gap toothed smile was encouraging, I entered. 

It was like I imagined it would be, or maybe it was that she had given me the mental image last night. Dimly lit. The single bed, with a large heavy clear plastic shield around it.  
" You don't need to go in there. He can hear you."  
I nodded but my eyes never left the bed.  
The man I had come to see. He was on top of the sheets, the small ineffectual hospital blanket kicked to the bottom, dangling off the side. His body incredibly emancipated. Frankly he looked like shit. I knew it wouldn't be good but honestly this was awful. The cloying smell rolling off him in waves and getting trapped in my nose despite the fucking mask.  
"Who are you?"  
His voice wasn't what I was expecting. It was steady. Not weak.  
" I'm here with a message Mr Clayton."  
He said nothing, if he was surprised or interested he didn't make any sign.I continued.  
" It's a message from Cleo."  
Still he didn't respond. If the name meant anything or nothing I wouldn't have known the difference. He must have been one hell of a poker player. The only sound from the other side of the plastic wall between us was his respirator, the machine keeping his oxygen levels up. Not that it looked like they were making much difference. This guy was fucked and I think we both knew it. I moved slightly closer, hearing the hiss though the tubes in his nose. From here I could see the sores on his face and neck. On his arms. Dark purple and large.Livid and sickening against the paleness of his drooping skin.  
He watched me, assessed me, with dark hooded eyes.  
" So say it. Say it you Bitch. You think I'm scared of you?"  
I nodded, watching her as she stood in the other side of his bed in this depressing room. Her eyes met mine and she nodded, my cue to get on with it.  
"Cleo wants you to know. You're in one fuckload of trouble."  
He shifted on the bed, looked like he was trying to get up. He was failing. He literally had no physical strength. I again glanced at the girl who paid me no attention, too busy watching this pathetic attempt at movement. Her eyes were glowing with contentment.  
I shuddered but continued, just wanting to get this done now.  
" You need to be aware that Robert knows what you have done. He knows what you did to her. And Mr Clayton, he's not happy."  
" Robert?"  
And there it was at last. Fear. Another glance at the girl. She was smiling.  
" What are you looking at? Why do you keep looking over there? Who put you up to this? Who the fuck are you Bitch?" He groped along his mattress and found the call buzzer. He pressed the large red circle which should bring attention of a nurse, but no sound came. He continued to impotently mash his palm onto the device, but I wasn't concerned. I knew it wouldn't work. I also knew that his carers always ignored his calls for as long as possible anyway.  
" Listen up Asshole. This is your heads up. You've got a very short time left in that shell, and when that time is up Ol' Robbie is gonna be waiting for a nice long chat. You are one fucked up bastard you know that?. She told me what you used to do to her. She told me exactly how you took her life." I felt my emotions rising , bile rising again as I remembered her matter of fact re-telling of her short life story and took a moment to screw the lid back on. I wanted this fuck to be scared. I needed to keep control. " You think this is bad? Man, you have no idea. Eternity is long time." I heard her laugh lightly, as she stepped through the plastic into the space beside his bed. He felt her now, how could he not? She was leaning over him, not touching, but close enough. " I have a feeling even after this planet is long gone, you're still going to be getting a really good insight of how she felt. You're going to get yours."  
" Please...please..." his whinging tone turned my stomach even more than it already was " can't you talk to them. I've suffered. God only knows I've suffered. I'm already paying."  
" Ahhh...No, sorry I don't think that's gonna wash. And even if I could, I really wouldn't. Believe me, you haven't even begun to know suffering yet."  
" How long?"  
" Pardon?" I pretended to misunderstand his question.  
" How long have I got?"  
I made a show of checking my watch, and heard the sharp rise in the pull of his oxygen.  
" Shit. By my reckoning you've got about five minutes."  
His body started twisting alarmingly and I was surprised that he could still expel so much energy. Still they say you get a final push of it from somewhere. You know , just before. I stepped back putting as much distance as I could between us.  
" Well I think this concludes my business here Mr Clayton. I'd wish you well but as we know that ain't gonna happen. Besides you don't deserve anything but what you're going to get."  
I watched Cleo as she stood up straight next to the bed. She shot me the double thumbs up and a genuine smile, the one she must have worn once before this sack of shit came into her life. I nodded. I had done what she had asked. God help me. I was done. I turned to leave, and the corner of my eye caught the dark suited figure who had been silently sitting in the chair positioned right behind me. I focused on the wood. I knew I didn't want to see him. I opened the door and as it closed behind me I could hear the damned Robert Clayton Jr. starting to recite The Lords Prayer. It surprised me in as much that I didn't think a man like that would even know it. 

I sat on a scarred bench, just adjacent to the Hospital's main entrance. A stale cigarette hung from my dry lips as i fought to steady my hands enough to light it.  
" Thank you Riley. You were so brave."  
I didn't look at Cleo, who now sat next to me on the bench, swinging her short legs, scabby knees poking out from under her grubby sundress.  
I shook my head, but didn't answer, taking in a deep lungful of the nicotine.  
" You know you shouldn't smoke. Those things will kill ya." She giggled at her own joke before leaving me for what I hoped was the last time.  
I smoked it anyway, right down to the filter. Flicking it away, I made to stand up, I was tired and I knew this night would stay with me for a while. That's when he started talking. I had hoped he wouldn't. I shoulda known better.  
" Would you mind helping me Riley? I know you saw me in there, and that kid, the one you were with, she just said you were a good one."  
I sighed, but nodding, sat back against the hard wood of the bench. I looked over at him, the ends of the loose cotton hospital gown floating around on the small breeze. His eyes were no longer cloudy, but a light blue. He was starting to look better already.  
" What do you need?".


	2. Azrael

" But it's your job Riley."  
I looked over at the being who had settled in Andrew's chair, behind the battered desk opposite me.  
Keeping my head down, wiping quickly at my nose, and trying to ignore the sudden pounding in my head I raised my monitor on its bracket to block out the face and replied as quietly as possible.  
" Actually this, this here, what I'm doing right now, is technically my job. And I need to be doing it now. So you'll have to come back later and see me when I'm free."  
It made a loud noise, kind of a cross between a hiss and a sigh, and the hairs on my arms and back of my neck rose, but it cut off abruptly and when I looked up and around the monitor, to my relief I saw the rightful owner of the seat was back in place. He smiled at me.  
" You ok?"  
" Yeah. All good."  
" Right, so drop the screen and have a look at this." 

The walk home was a quick one and I pushed myself faster than usual. I could feel it coming. It's difficult to describe how I know when one is due but I'll try. Not every time is the same, the level of intensity changes depending on who or what it is. I also get the impression it's up to them on how intense the experience is. First you feel sick, saliva fills your mouth making you want to gag, but you know it's not going to happen. You almost wish you could chuck your guts, just to relieve the pressure. Then your heart speeds up, the pounding in your chest mirrored by the pulse in your ears is horrendous. Your skin feels like it's tightening over your bones and your muscles are all straining. Your organs feel heavy. You bleed. From your nose, your ears, well from pretty much every orofice, to be honest. The time it started coming from my pores was an experience I hoped never to repeat. It's pretty fucking uncomfortable . First time this happened I was two. Try explaining that shit to your Mother as a toddler. I purposely used all the back streets and short cuts to my apartment because I knew that if I had to talk to it, well, better someone else didn't see me spouting Latin or Hebrew or whatever language it chose to use today.  
I didn't quite make it. A block from home I felt myself crumble, unable to stop it, my legs going out from under me and my face planting in the packed dirt in the alleyway. Spots of blood dropping silently. The quiet chuckle brought me around and I lifted myself as speedily as I could manage which was on a par with a paralysed sloth. Wiping the filth from my face and spitting the taste from my mouth I looked at it.  
" Can you talk now Riley? Is this more convenient for you dear?"  
My mind felt like it was on Novocain. I had to really focus to move my lips.  
" Qwwwwitttit"  
" What was that?"  
A deep breath , my eyes rolling in my skull, but I managed it, eventually. " Quit it."  
" You only had to say it."  
Instantly I felt normal again. Head clear, pulse back low and steady.  
" Azrael. Why are you such a fucking..."  
" Now, now Riley think on. You want me to make that last? I can you know. It could last a very long time."  
I wiped the last crumbs of dirt from my lips and looked at the Angel. Well at the Angels chosen form, which today happened to be Danny Devito. I immediately regretted watching It's Always Sunny the night before.  
" What? You like Frank." He sat down beside me.  
" Did. I did like Frank."  
He laughed and I closed my eyes, just hoping this would be over soon.  
" Alright, alright I'll make it quick, you know, cos I like you Riley."  
" What is it now?"  
What he showed me made me wish I hadn't asked.


	3. Donny

It had been a hard weekend. Since Azrael had laid it all out for me I'd been busy. Research. Donald Michael Walsh, 38, was my latest obsession. The more I learnt the more I realised that the guy was one sick puppy. I've been around the block a few times now so I'm kinda used to dealing with some messed up shit but I had to admit this guy was something else. As well as Azrael's visit , I'd later also had the pleasure of the company of Miss Rosie Pearson, who was the first victim of the aforementioned delightful Mr Walsh and as such she became spokeswoman on behalf of them all. Once I'd taken in her scarlet rimmed, heavily bloodshot eyes and blackly bruised neck we'd had a long interesting discussion. 

Donny ( makes him sound almost human doesn't it?) grew up in Gold Beach ,Oregon, a quiet beautiful place. His mom stayed at home to raise her three sons, and his father was a hard working , often absent, manual labourer. Donny started out in life pretty normally, until his younger brothers had made an appearance when he was seven. Suddenly his doting Mothers focus switched, and he found himself increasingly left to his own devices as she struggled with her fussy new twins. That's when he started experimenting. The good old classics. Animal torture, lighting fires, slyly hurting smaller children, general misbehaviour in school and at home, but nothing bad enough to warrant more than a talking to or a slap around the head from Pops. What makes it worse, is that Donny was smart. Even as a young kid he was quick enough to know he needed to keep his new hobbies quiet. As he grew and developed so did his smarts and his skills. 

Rosie caught his eye in tenth grade. A happy, sunny girl, she was more or less his polar opposite. He didn't like that. Why was she always so goddamn happy with herself?. Donny boy watched her for months, keeping note of her habits in his neat controlled handwriting. Her numerous likes and few dislikes, her friends, and large, equally happy family. He kept a meticulous note book on her. Filling it each night with his observations. That book, with it's Darth Vader cover, was the first of many , all of which now resided in a locked box in the rafters of his garage.  
On the last day of summer term, a warm July afternoon, Don had followed an oblivious Rosie as she split off from her small group of friends and started the short walk home alone. Rosie told me she had been caught up in a daydream about Robbie Knight, the dreamy blonde eleventh grader who didn't know she existed and how she was looking forward to the endless summer ahead of her. She hadn't even really struggled that much when he'd grabbed her heavy backpack and thrown her off balance into the scrubby bushes that encased the path she'd been walking on. She'd shaken her head, told him to grow up. Attempted to pick herself up. She hadn't had time to build up a good scream before he was on her, kicking her back down on her ass, strong muscled hands, even at that young age, thanks to the wrestling team in school, grabbing her around her slim neck. It had been fairly quick, but not quick enough to be painless.   
When it was over, far too early to be really satisfying for him, even though the cum in his tight pants was still warm and his softening cock was still twitching, she had watched him. Not really understanding or believing yet what had happened. He'd stayed with her body as long as he could only prising himself away as the sun began to set and he knew his Mother would have his tea on the table.   
As the days passed and her family grew more frantic with each hour, Donny returned a few times to see how his experiment was progressing. He'd dragged her back even further into the scrub and the initial search of the area had been rushed so she wasn't found for four days. Those 96 hours made him feel like a god. The experience had cemented his entire future. He'd finally stopped visiting her when the flies and maggots had taken over in earnest. He'd then gingerly removed her shoes and socks, laying a trail for the searchers to finally locate her. He'd thought himself rather noble at this gesture. He gave himself a pat on the back for his good deed. He'd allowed them to find her. He slept like a baby that night as her family wept and Rosie had watched him. She'd been watching him ever since, helpless to prevent his work, meeting a new friend every so often as Donny continued and refined his hobby. Now it was time to try and stop it. She'd met Azrael, The Angel of Death, when he had come for Alison Roberts, the latest girl to join the ranks. She'd finally spoken up and asked for help. And now she was sitting on my embarrassingly sagging couch asking me for that help. She'd waited long enough for it. Time to buy a book and start making a few notes of my own.

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to know any thoughts you have on this.


End file.
